Fry me up a frittata, Frenchman!

Man, I’m kinda beat right now. It’s pretty busy out here at Agency X – WAY past time for all good mercs to be snuggled up with their collection of doll heads sleeping the well-deserved sleep of the conscienceless killer, but we’ve just landed a new client and apparently, this isn’t just a simple grab-and-stab case. Nooooo, this one requires what Sandi refers to as “detective work,” i.e. Really Bloody Boring Stuff. So here I am, stuck in the office sorting through papers and stuff to look for “clues” so we can find some dude who’s been killing a bunch of women and keeping their eyeballs as souvenirs. Almost makes me miss a certain super-Jesus who had an in with the World Wide Web and could organize a hard-drive’s worth of info in seconds. Almost.

Anyway, let me tell you, when I finally find this guy, we’re gonna play our own little game of Clue, with special blood penalties for every. Single. Stupid email forward about John McCain’s wife that I’ve read tonight. And then I’m gonna knock ‘im upside the head. In the conservatory. With the candlestick. The one I stole from that Nepalese temple. The really, really heavy one. Yeah…

Oh, sorry. Daydreaming for a bit, there. Anyway, after the twenty-seventh “forward this or you die painfully tomorrow” email I read, I got a little stir-crazy, kicked the wall, jumped on the cat, and slashed an X in that stupid picture of stupid Agent X that’s hanging in the lobby, so Sandi said we could spare me a 15-minute break in the detectoring for some “me time.” So here I am, drinkin’ a cold brewski and chatting with y’all.

So, lessee. First things first: that little German piece of hotness Deadpool fan known as addygryff tells me there’s pictures of me being leaked ALL OVER THE INTERNET. I don’t know how this stuff happens, but as long as I get a piece of the action, it’s cool by me. Just remember, I trademarked that Deadpool logo back in the Dark Ages, so if you’re using it, you’d better be sending in the checks! Addy also sent me a link to some great iconized pics she made of yours truly, and maybe also of that dude we all know as Priscilla-Twee-Jones-Summers. Even though she totally made me blush with all her icon-adoration, I think they’re pretty kick ass. So check ’em out!

What’s the maximum theoretical Energy Efficiency Ratio (EER) for a window air conditioner?

Well, Particle Man, I’m glad you asked that question! And I will answer it tout-sweet! (That means “ASAP.”) But first, I’ve got a question for you: Are you a dot, or are you a speck? When you’re underwater, do you get wet? I guess nobody will ever know. (Unless you write in and tell me, that is.)

So, let’s see…if I hook up my Mr. Professor calculator to the Ouija Board, rotate the Magic Eight Ball 322 degrees to the left, pour some of the Hulk’s blood into this beaker, and divide by a million and three…the answer turns out to be: “about 36.” And if I had any idea what that meant, maybe I’d be a wealthier man than I am today!

Well, Rivian my friend, I can’t deny I’ve got some prejudices, but I’m not sure how guilty I feel about them, considering I don’t have much of a conscience in general. After all, I throw grenades at mimes just for kicks. So, you know.

Just for you, though, I’ll list a few prejudices off the top of my head.

My Top Three Prejudices
by, Deadpool

1. Clowns. I hate clowns. Clowns are Evil. Why, you might ask, when all they desire in the world is to bring joy and happiness to small fry everywhere? WELL I’LL TELL YOU.

a) Clowns are not funny. Clowns are sad, limp things with secret agendas to take over the world. They make me want to do sharp, stabby things to the soft undersides of puppies, what with their “whitewash in the pants” and their “squirting lapel flowers” and their “pies in the face” and their *@#&*!% “joy buzzers.” JOY BUZZERS. As if getting a shock to the hand like you get to the sausage and ‘taters when you pee on an electric fence is JOYOUS. Joy buzzer, my a$$. Those little tricks make me sick, and, what’s worse, they’re not just pathetic-but-innocent attempts to please and amuse. NO THEY ARE NOT. They are all part of a Secret Plan of Clown Domination. See, the clowns figure if they subject us to these little “crowd pleasers” enough, we’ll all lose the will to live and they will be able to rule the world. And trust me, if clown-watching were mandatory, it would work.

b) You know why clowns wear those gigantic shoes? Because they’re all eunuchs. And if they take over, you just know it’s gonna be castration-time for all! And there ain’t no WAY they’re gettin’ near my Zwinky. So OUT, DAMN CLOWNS.

c) There are clowns that look like this, and that just should not be allowed.

Rating on the Prejudice Guilt-o-Meter
Clown-hating: -6

2. Blue People. Okay, I am totally, totally justified on this one. They almost killed me, like, for real, and all over their desire to make everyone blue like them. Plus I didn’t really dig the splooshy “melting” thing, and then there was that whole Cable mess, and being absorbed through someone’s pores is just plain out gross. Not to mention seeing what a sandwich looks like while it’s being digested put me off sandwiches for, like, two days.

Plus, I was blue once, so I’m allowed to be prejudiced against blue people, and to make derogatory stereotypical jokes about them and call them “bluies.” That’s just how it works, yo. If I’d never been blue, people might yell at me when I taunt the bluies and throw things at them, but since I was one it’s completely ok, and I’ll step UP in your grill if you suggest otherwise.

Dear DP,
What time is too late to go to work and when should you just call in out of embarrassment?
And if I had mutant powers, what would they be? Either I’m oblivious or I don’t have any… 😦
Best Wishes, Lady_of_Mists
P.S. Thanks for taking the time to answer all of us! Much appreciated. 🙂

Don’t worry, Miss Addy. I’ll protect you from the clowns. CLOWNS FEAR ME.
As well they should!
Hey, it’s no problem at all! It’s me helping you make me look good, is the way I figure it, right? You got any more, you send ’em my way!